


cut you deep

by tycutiovevo



Category: Romeo And Juliet - Shakespeare
Genre: M/M, Modern AU, hmm did anyone ask for mild angst and gays? well here you go, injury but nothing serious, no death here only Gay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-09
Updated: 2019-04-09
Packaged: 2020-01-07 04:54:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18403517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tycutiovevo/pseuds/tycutiovevo
Summary: Prompt for tveckling on tumblr: tycutio, "you've always got me"





	cut you deep

The wound wasn’t that bad, Tybalt thought, observing the cut in the mirror. It definitely could have been a lot worse. The slice across his abdomen was long (and still bleeding), but it was thin and mostly shallow. It could be easily patched up, no need for stitches or, worse, the emergency room. Still hurt like a bitch, though.

Tybalt winced as he pulled off his shirt, his breath coming out as a short hiss as the motion tugged at the wound. After glancing back in the mirror to make sure he hadn’t pulled open the cut further, he allowed himself a sigh of relief. Rubbing his thumb idly over the fabric of the shirt, he wondered whether it was worth sewing up and salvaging or if he should just trash it. It was a nice enough shirt, and it had already been patched up a few times. Maybe it was time to transition it into a sleep shirt.

A few rapid knocks at his apartment door interrupted his thoughts. Tybalt pulled his shirt to his stomach instinctively, listening as the door was unlocked and pushed open.

“Tyba-a-alt,” A voice sang from the door, and Tybalt sighed. It was just Mercutio.

“Hey, babe,” Tybalt called back, poking his head out of the bathroom for a moment before ducking back in. He prayed Mercutio would wait a few minutes before coming to find him, but he didn’t have high hopes. He’d just have to be quick in patching himself up.

“Get into any trouble today?” Mercutio said. From the sound of it, he was rummaging through the cabinets. Tybalt wondered if he was putting up groceries or searching for food. Either one was likely.

“Plenty,” Tybalt said, though his usual sarcastic reply came out as more of a grumble. He dropped his shirt on the ground, deciding to deal with it later, before he reached up to shuffle through the bathroom cabinet for the first-aid kit. Well, first-aid kit was an understatement. It was halfway to being a full hospital visit tucked into a neat white container. 

Tybalt clicked it open, pulling out gauze and saline and everything else he thought he might need. Clean, cover, recover. It was a practice that was half necessity and half routine for him. The wound certainly wasn’t his first cut, or even his first wound to the abdomen (he had the scars to prove it), and it definitely wouldn’t be the last. He pulled his hair back into a ponytail, tying it with the elastic on his wrist. It was time to get to work.

Tybalt dressed his wound to the sound of Mercutio humming somewhere in the apartment, letting the movements fall back into muscle memory. A liberal amount of saline and gauze pads cleaned up the cut nicely, and Tybalt sucked in a quick breath as he wrapped bandages around his abdomen over another strip of gauze. He snipped off the end with a small pair of scissors, fastened it together with a safety pin, and let out a small breath. 

“So when I asked you if you got into any trouble, you weren’t joking,” Mercutio’s voice was a flat monotone behind Tybalt, and he jolted at the sound.

Mercutio was leaning against the door frame, a disapproving frown carving his face. His arms were crossed, two fingers tapping an agitated rhythm against his arm. His eyes weren’t focused on Tybalt’s face, though. They were cemented on the bandages wrapping up Tybalt’s stomach.

“No,” Tybalt said, finding nowhere for snark under Mercutio’s glare. His arms wrapped around himself without his permission, holding his abdomen in a pseudo-comfort.

Mercutio continued to glare for a moment longer before his expression softened. “What am I going to do with you?” He asked, looking up at Tybalt’s face. His honey-brown eyes seemed tired, holding a hurt so deep that Tybalt had to look away.

Tybalt’s arms pressed in closer to his gut, threatening to make his cut bleed again. Mercutio reached out, soft fingers brushing over Tybalt’s arms. Tybalt’s grip around himself loosened, and Mercutio took the opportunity to pull him into a gentle hug.

“Do you need anything?” Mercutio murmured into Tybalt’s hair, ever the mother hen when someone else was hurt. It almost made Tybalt laugh. Almost.

Tybalt shook his head. Mercutio pulled away but hooked his arm around Tybalt, pulling him out of the bathroom and into the living room. Tybalt let himself be led toward the couch, sitting down to rest against the cushions. 

“I’m making you tea. Chamomile or ginger?” Mercutio asked. Tybalt opened his mouth to argue, but thought better of it after seeing the dark expression brewing on Mercutio’s face.

“Chamomile,” Tybalt mumbled, curling up on the couch. He let his head rest against the arm as his body instinctively curled in on itself. 

Mercutio disappeared into the kitchen, searching through the cabinets for Tybalt’s tea stash. “You’re getting microwave tea because I’m too mad to use your kettle.”

Tybalt hummed assent. He did deserve it, after all. Tybalt’s eyes started to drift closed, fatigue settling in after the adrenaline of the afternoon.

He didn’t hear the microwave beep, and he jolted awake as Mercutio settled next to him on the couch. “Don’t burn yourself,” Mercutio said, handing the mug off to Tybalt. His tone was bitter, but the kitten-shaped mug he handed Tybalt sent a different message.

“Thank you,” Tybalt murmured, wrapping his hands around the mug. He took a cautious sip, letting the tea burn through his throat.

“Are we going to talk about this?” Mercutio asked, though he didn’t look at Tybalt when he said it. His eyes were tracking the far wall as if it held all the answers he needed.

Tybalt stayed silent, taking another sip of his tea. Mercutio sighed, but he didn’t move away when Tybalt leaned into him. His arm slid behind Tybalt’s back, winding its way carefully over Tybalt’s stomach. 

“I’d chastise you, but you’ve heard it a thousand times. Instead, I’m going to cuddle you and never let you leave this apartment again.”

Tybalt hummed out a laugh, curling in closer to Mercutio. “You’ve always got me,” He said, his eyes starting to drift shut again.

Mercutio huffed a sigh, but his body was pliant against Tybalt’s. “Maybe.”

Tybalt tucked his head under Mercutio’s neck, Mercutio’s head resting on his. 

Tybalt thought that if he fell asleep here, wrapped up in Mercutio’s arms, he wouldn’t want to leave anyway. 

**Author's Note:**

> come join me on tumblr @ tycutiovevo! talk to me about my favorite boys!


End file.
